Many of us may have considered for an extended period of time whether or not our alcoholics are truly addicts, or simply difficult or somewhat irrational people. This consideration occurs privately and self-consciously because we don’t want to appear unloyal. We are in a relationship with these people because we love them (or loved them) and they are interconnected with our lives in some way that we want to continue. But eventually, we have to admit that perhaps their actions are different than the actions of other people – more normal people. We begin to see some things we didn’t recognize before: that they might not be telling the truth, entirely; that they seem to be overly judgemental about certain people we are close to; that they seem to need a lot of attention, often just when our attention is needed by our children, at work, or by close family and friends. We start to see patterns in their moods: they may get agitated during certain parts of the day, or become not bothered or angry but actually incensed when they don’t get their way. They may behave in a passive aggressive manner in order to structure the world around them according to their own emotional needs at any given time. Or you may recognize a complete lack of patterns: they come and go at odd times without being clear on what they are doing; they say one thing and do another, but get angry and blame you in some way if you bring this to their attention. They seem to go to extremes in everything: they sleep for ten to twenty hours a day; they obsess about a hobby; they have to eat the entire bag of cookies; they need to exercise for hours and hours each day, pushing themselves to new limits all of the time.

All of these can be classified under the category of alcoholic/addictive “isms” but they could just as easily be the actions of someone who is not abusing. There could be a mental health issue, the individual might be an eccentric, or they might just be a jerk. Perhaps they are someone who is simply going through a rough patch and needs some TLC and a counsellor. There are many possible explanations for their behaviours, which is why analyzing the isms in a potential alcoholic is not the task that you should focus on. Instead, place the focus on yourself to see if you are developing isms that suggest you are in an unhealthy environment.

For example:
• Do you feel you have to manage every aspect of your life, your household and the lives of those around you or things will fall apart?
• If your potential alcoholic is your partner, are you their lover or their mother?
• Do you have an obsessive need for information?
• Do you sacrifice your own needs (sleep, hygiene, food, recreation) in order to keep the status quo at home?
• Do you feel like you are the only one who is keeping the family and home together – and maybe even the only one who cares about doing so?
• Do you feel like you are normally a strong person who can handle the burden that has become your life, but every so often, you just lose it?
• Do you have a hard time asking for help (because no one can do it as well as you, because someone as strong as you should not need help, because you’re embarrassed that someone might find out why you might need help)?

These are all signs of your own isms that usually result from having an unhealthy person in your life. You are essentially reacting to the acts of that unhealthy person. And your reaction, you will come to realize, is not taking you to a happy, safer place. It is taking you to an unhappier and less stable place all the time, because you are becoming unhealthier while at the same time, the addict is in a spiral downward. From everything I’ve seen and read, there is no such thing as an active addict in a holding pattern. They are always worsening. While it is true that they can live for quite some time as a functioning alcoholic or addict, in reality their body is being worn down by their addiction and it is taking more and more of the stimulant to get them to the same level of “high”. They are declining and with them, there’s unfortunately a chance that you are, too. Your own isms will increase in intensity over time, until you come to a place of realization of helplessness. You don’t want to go there if you can help it.

You cannot stop their downward decline. They likely need an outsider – one who’s walked in their shoes – to do this with them. You cannot help them. But you can help yourself.

Learn whatever you can about alcoholism and the isms of those connected with an alcoholic. Find a program and a support network. Take the focus off of your alcoholic’s isms and place it on your own. By doing this, you will start on a very positive and healing journey toward your own sanity and eventual happiness. With luck, the alcoholic will catch up and join you there one day.

Sound easy? Well it is, and it isn’t. Yet so many people have told me that love shouldn’t be complex, it should be simply and easy. My experience, then, has proved the exception to the rule. I fell in love with someone who was a close friend way back in high school. He lives 100 kms from me, he has a gaggle of step kids and even some grandchildren from his prior marriage (he actually became a granddad at 41). His work and his aging mother live halfway between his house and mine. I’m not sure how many miles he logs in his car each week, but he says that his biggest expense is gas. He’s really a country boy at heart, who’s fallen in love with a city girl. And he has a large circle of friends whom he tries valiantly to keep up with. His life is complicated, and he talks about survival by experiencing the various elements in his life in thin slices.

I’ve come to realize that the complexity of my own life is equally daunting but very different. As a single mom, my kids and the stability of our home come first. I’m incredibly grateful that he realizes I must be at home most of the time so he does virtually all of the travelling; yet when he’s here he demands my full attention so often, I don’t get to the things I need to do to keep life running smoothly. It’s a struggle, for example, to find time for things like cleaning and laundry. We’re relatively good at being part of my family dinners, but I rarely see my own friends, and the social life we have is more often than not around his friends and family. Perhaps the biggest struggle I face, however, is the one I have attempting to find balance between the independent and capable me and the vulnerable partner in love. If you really love someone, this should be easy, shouldn’t it? But it’s not because I haven’t been honest with him. He knows I was married to an alcoholic. He doesn’t fully understand how that has shaped who I am today, nor does he acknowledge that I was damaged in the process and am in the process of healing. And I haven’t told him about the difficulties in my childhood which also makes me who I am, and affects my reactions and behaviours. So while he’s an open book, I’m a semi-closed one and that is causing an imbalance in our relationship. Most of the time we can both choose to ignore this instability. We cover it with laughter, or sex, or general businesses. But every so often, something happens that puts it into the uncomfortable lime light with me, and that’s where I am today.

We had a dinner party the other night for a number of his friends – people I have considered my own friends in the making. For no apparent reason, one of them seemed to spend the entire evening making small digs at me. As isolated incidents they could easily be ignored. But ten or so throughout the evening felt like an attack, and I reacted by becoming quiet, and later lying to my boyfriend in saying that I was simply tired, when really I was in confused grief.
He didn’t notice it, and he didn’t stand up for me. I could have called it out at the time, but was worried it would embarrass everyone at the table. Funny thing is, most of the women must have seen what was going on becomes they were also quite silent. The conversation was dominated by the men. Later, I realized I had a resented because of my expectation that my boyfriend would notice and then stand up for me. But he went on a trip the next day and I’ve had a few days to think about it, speak with my sponsor, and understand the heart of my grief. Before I can blame or resent him for his lack of action, I need to examine a lack of my own action. I have not been forthright with my boyfriend about why I am the way I am – why I need to be respected in my home, why I need him to notice and care about when I feel slighted. And until I do that, I will only be giving him a thin slice of me, and if I truly love him then he should be worthy of getting access to more than that thin slice.

It’s easy for an outsider to say that love should be uncomplicated; but show me a truly uncomplicated relationship and I’ll show you two people who are probably not being honest with each other.

The remedy? I need to gather the courage to speak honestly with my boyfriend. There’s no doubt I’m worried about his reaction. I’m worried about how he’ll judge me, what he’ll say, how things will proceed. But I’ve realized that this is a turning point for me – in this relationship but also in my life. I have not been good at being honest, and then standing up for myself. I have not been a good negotiator for me. His reaction will make our future clear, one way or the other. And then, at least it will be honest. The alternative is to remain in this uncomfortable place, with this distance between us only growing with time. Experience has taught me that while that might seem easier in the short term, it’s a lot more painful in the long term.

As I get further into my own recovery, I recall with some shame the degree to which I held on, in the past, to relationships where I clearly was not celebrated and in fact, felt barely tolerated. This included my relationship with my alcoholic now ex-husband but also with individuals in my workplace, with family members, and even with people I had previously called friends. Rather than letting go of these people and situations, I clung to them, taking on all of the blame as well as the responsibility for repair. I tried to improve those relationships by working harder, needing less, becoming a low-maintenance, insignificant little ball that wouldn’t cause anyone worry or even thought. In doing this, I was actually enabling their dismissiveness, disrespect and even abuse toward me. I wasn’t condoning it or asking for it…but I wasn’t stopping it, either.

It took several years for me to develop enough self compassion and eventually, love for myself, to finally realize I was worthy of much better treatment. I found two reasons for the length of time it took me to get there. The first was that when one dysfunctional person is in our lives, if we look more closely we’ll probably find there are many dysfunctional people in our lives. Negatively and sickness can attract the same. When we are already in a weakened state, it can be difficult to realize how pervasive dysfunction can be. No wonder, I think as I look back now, that I felt I was so alone. I was. There were very few healthy people around me and my alcoholic ensured I had very limited access to them. I was surrounded by insanity until it became my new normal, and my environment was custom made to keep me weak and confused. How, in this condition, could I possibly have realized the condition I was truly in?

The second reason is that the very nature of supporters of alcoholics is nurturing and capable. We give of ourselves to others until it hurts and then WE GIVE SOME MORE, because we’re strong. Everyone tells us that and we believe it. We are stronger than other people and therefore it’s our duty to put up with unusual burdens. I remember a teacher of mine used to say “God only gives us the burdens we can safely carry”. As I grew older, I came to understand that God gives us the lessons we must learn. When we don’t listen, the message must come to us in a stronger way, until it is too powerful to ignore. I was so strong that I had to allow myself to be broken before I would admit I needed to be fixed. When I did, help was there.

When I was ready to start dating I ended up with men who treated me more or less how I felt about myself. As I got stronger and began to love myself more, I found the men who were attracted to me were more caring and loving as well. The man I’m with now adores me (she said with smile). He is a reflection of the self worth I’ve developed over the past several years. He is my reward for great self-work, and I hope I am reward for his as well.

Life will hand us a reflection of how we feel about ourselves. Good things can come to us, but only when we have taken the time to heal and learn to appreciate and respect our own worth. Learn to celebrate yourself, and then go where you are celebrated.

My grade 12 son recently announced that he intends to pursue a career in the Canadian military. I should have felt proud of his commitment to serve his country, but the mother in me was only terrified of losing her son. At first I was worried that he might be hurt, or worse; but now I understand that whether he goes to the military or leaves town to attend university in another part of the country, he will soon be leaving me to enter into independent adulthood. My loss of him is imminent, and inevitable, regardless of how it happens.

It’s taken several weeks and strong advice from friends and family in order for me to get to a place of acceptance and support for my son’s decision. But it’s been a rough ride, intensified by my programmed need to control situations I’m uncomfortable with.

If you’ve had an alcoholic in your life, you know exactly what I’m talking about. Alcoholics thrive in chaos and craziness, and we’ve been trained to try to neutralize or at least minimize the mayhem by attempting to mange the situation as much as possible. It was a survival mechanism, and it allowed us to keep our families together, our homes viable, and our lives somehow on track.

Through our own journey of recovery, we learn that it is not our job to try to change people. All we can really do is to establish and maintain our own boundaries around how we wish to be treated, and ensure that we keep our side of the street clean. This means that the only peson we should judge is oursleves, and we should seek to ensure that in every action and behaviour, we are living healthy, respectful and honest lives.

To “control” life is a fallacy anyway. The people we love could – heaven forbid – be hit by a bus or diagnosed with a terrible illness tomorrow. My son could fall in love and move to Australia and there’s very little I could do about it. All I can control is my own behaviour, my own reactions. So I decided to examine my behavious around my son’s decisions, and realized that while I had no control over his future, I could certainly do a better job of enjoying the time I have with him today. So I’m teaching him to drive, I continue to serve as one of his soccer coashes, and we’re planning a trip together – just the two of us – to Europe this summer after his graduation. The other night, we went shopping for his first suit and it was an evening I will always treasure. Who knew that such a simple task could be such fun, and so poignant?

Admittedly, this moment was possible because I have built structure and care into my life so my time is not wasted on managing mayhem. I’ve created the physical and emotional space in which to experience joy, but I’ve come to realize that I haven’t always allowed for the time in which to let joy happen. Thanfully, a loving Universe has given me another gentle lesson. I have the time, and now the awareness, to truly appreciate life right now. All we ever really have is this moment, anyway. And in this moment, I love my son unconditionally, and I thank God that he’s in my life.

I was raised in a wealthy environment by poor parents.  The money we had was spent on our educations, and a decent home in what became a very good neighborhood.  Other than that, we didn’t really have a lot.  But it was enough for my siblings and I to appreciate what could be possible, with the right focus and effort on our part.  My plan was to get married only once, to have a family of two or three children, and to be able to work at a job that enabled me to live with a bit more ease and a bit better lifestyle than my parents had.  I chose my spouse carefully, never dreaming that he was hiding such a terrible secret as alcoholism.  And for many years, we successfully and happily worked toward those dreams. 

When my world crashed down around me, I knew I would survive because I had managed hardships in the past.   It was the death of that dream that, in many ways, was the hardest to take.  But human beings can be remarkably resilient.  It took several years for me to let go of what could have been and focus instead on what could be.  And during that time, my world changed.  My boys grew older and became more independent.  My own independence blossomed as I built new friendships with wonderful people, and discovered that I was more than capable of running my household and raising my children on my own. 

Last night as I lay lounging on a couch with some new friends, drinking a late night cup of tea and sipping liqueur, I contemplated where I was now.  After three years of dating I’ve met a wonderful man – a friend from long ago who has come back into my life in a new, more intimate role.  Together we are enjoying the summer with friends and on our own. This week, my boys are vacationing with their father, while my boyfriend and I relax in a little cabin on a quiet bay surprisingly close to home.  There are some pretty impressive boats bopping up and down out there in the bay, and a lazy row of houses lining the beachfront, each with their own narrow boardwalk to their small section of private beach.   Dinners here occur later in the evening, after cocktails at various cottages along the beach.  Then they are cooked in open kitchen designs, with candles throughout the house and soft rock from somebody’s iPod playing through the speakers.  Last night we took our plates down to the beach and when we had finished eating, played along the shoreline in the phosphorescence. 

There are a few cell phones here but they don’t ring very often; maybe that’s because everyone has turned them off.   I check mine from time to time just in case there is a message from my boys.  But my blackberry is sitting back at home babysitting my empty house and probably has over 500 emails on it by now.  I supposed if someone needed to get in touch with me with news that would rock my world, they could find a way.  But for the moment, I’m happy to just sit here and contemplate how much my life has changed over the past several years.  And there may be more changes coming: after all, before I left on this trip I bought a lottery ticket!  Yet when we boated out to a local harbor yesterday to do some grocery shopping, I forgot to take it with me to see if I won anything.  Right now, it just doesn’t seem to matter.

While there is no doubt in my mind that these years marked some of the toughest of my life to date, with great struggle can come great insight.  I recall in my early thirties taking a mediation exam that I failed.  I was so devastated, and couldn’t make my way home but had to stop off to visit one of my sisters for comfort.  Even there, in that safe environment, it took me considerable time in order to admit why I was there, and be comforted.  It took over a year to process and learn from it.  As it turns out, failing at something was one of the most important lessons in my life.  It helped me to learn how to give myself permission to fail.   This, in turn, gave me permission to try.  Subsequently, I’ve learned how to ski, I take singing lessons, and I’ve now written a book.  Failure isn’t really failure.  It’s simply another life lesson that we can learn tremendously from if we have the courage to do so.

I have heard people who have suffered from a major illness, like cancer, say that it was the best thing that ever happened to them.  This was not for the fear and the pain, certainly, but rather for the new respect for life it gave them.   Over time, I’ve learned to be curious whenever life hands me misfortune.  Why is this happening? What lesson do I have to learn?  How can I grow from this?  What should I be doing differently? 

“Looking Up” describes the pain of life with an alcoholic, and the wonder of learning that the cure for our unhappiness is actually inside of ourselves.   We are the key to our own peace, and joy, regardless of what goes on around us.  The truth is, everyone is in pain; everyone is in crises.  We are here to learn, and that usually only happens through pain.  No one’s life is so much better than ours.  No one can “fix” us.  And ultimately, no one truly has the power to hurt us.  

These are complex concepts – at least they are to me.  They took me four years to begin to learn and I will be a student of such concepts for the rest of my life.  My hope is that in reading about my own pain and recovery, your learning curve can be that much shorter.  At the very least, by reading “Looking Up”, you will know that you are not alone.  Ideally, you will also see that there is tremendous hope for a much better life, and that it is completely within your power to attain it. 

“Looking Up: Surviving Life with an Alcoholic” is available at Lulu.com and will soon be available through Amazon.com.

By reading this blog, you are also being given an opportunity to learn something that probably applies to your life right now.  The Universe is infinitely loving. While it is true that lessons usually come through pain and adversity, that is not the Universe’s fault.  We tend to change only when pressed, so we actually determine the amount of pain we must experience in order to learn the lesson.  That said, as I live a life that is more open to understanding, I have to admit that despite my stubbornness, there has still been incredible love in the lessons.  I recently experienced a personal disappointment on the eve of a business trip that would take me to meet up with a handful of very dear friends, and into a business environment that would keep me so busy that I couldn’t dwell too heavily on my loss.  I didn’t avoid the grieving, but the circumstances truly gave me a softer landing.

And what of the painful experiences that lead to our lessons?  The most painful one I ever went through was the realization that my alcoholic husband was choosing to recover by blaming me and our children for his alcoholism and resulting behaviors, and thus leaving the marriage and his responsibilities as a parent.  There had been many earlier signs that the marriage was no longer serving my highest good; but I had chosen to ignore them repeatedly until my husband treated me and our children so badly, I was forced to let go.  What allowed me to finally let go?  I eventually realized that I was worthy of better treatment, and I trusted that the Universe had a better plan for me.  Once I accepted that possibility, it came to pass.

In time, I found that when I lived with awareness – of my body, what I was thinking, how I was making choices – and I accepted life on life’s terms instead of constantly trying to negotiate my way through it, I have been very well taken care of.  The pathway might not always look like I would have envisioned it, but in many ways, it’s better.  The road is not easy, but it is one of growth and depth, and I know I am heading to a much higher place than before. 

That doesn’t mean that bad things don’t happen.  I still face adversity, disappointments and confusion.  But now, I get curious about why they are happening to me, because everything happens for a reason.  Occurrences, both good and bad, have lessons for me.  They re-enforce what I am doing well, and they warn me when I have something important to learn and to change.  The faster I pick up on the clues, the easier the learning and the smoother my life becomes.  It all starts with accepting life’s lessons, instead of fighting them.